So there you have it, a group of bozos dressed as Fenway Park took on the Bill’s Pizzeria 5k Sunday morning. We certainly set no time records, but we had a blast and the costumes held up for the duration of the run (Citgo drooped quite a bit – literally and figuratively – by the end of the post-race pizza party).

Two weekends ago we had the pleasure of reuniting with a couple of warm, old friends: Jo and Becky from our days in Mongolia. They arrived from the UK on Thursday and were in the house to greet me and James upon our arrival home from work/daycare.

We quickly settled into that sort of casual comfort only enjoyed with close friends. Perhaps it’s having slept in gers together or ridden across the Mongolian steppe for far too many hours in far too squished a space, but whatever it is, it’s nice. Simple comforts of pleasant conversation, cold beer, and warm cheer.

Our first stop for the evening was the pub where our Brits were introduced to the pumpkin mania that is this time of year. Pumpkin beer, pumpkin pasta, pumpkin desserts: all of it was amusing (and delicious).

Friday we left them to entertain themselves for the day while we counted the minutes until our weekend arrived. On tap? A quiet evening at home in preparation for a big day a the fair on Saturday.

Up and at ’em early on Saturday, we journeyed to Topsfield for the fair.

Posing with…me.

And then to the brewery in Gloucester for lunch.

And then to the lobster shop to buy dinner.

And finally home to greet another Mongolia friend, Marilyn, who had taken the bus up from NYC.

James called a meeting amongst his new friends to welcome them to the house.

We waited until post-bedtime to cook said friends and to enjoy a delightful lobster and corn on the cob dinner. How very New England of us.

Sunday morning we said so long to Marilyn and hopped in the car to journey to Plymouth, MA, and then on to Sandwich. We weren’t looking to do much of anything, per say, but we wanted an outing, so an outing we created.

What better outing than Oktoberfest, stumbled upon at the height of hunger and pessimism (this town is empty, we’re never going to find anywhere to eat, DOES THAT SIGN SAY OKTOBERFEST?!?!).

Jo liked jager.

Warmed through, back home we went with a stop first at Becky’s family’s house to drop her off for the afternoon.

Monday we wandered about some more, casually puttering the streets of Cambridge before coming home, heading out for a walk, and then saddling up to the bar at another local pub. Here we enjoyed bar snacks, a few pints, and that warm kind of lighting that makes an evening feel more magical than it really is.

Our visit wound down on Tuesday, and the guests took off on Wednesday. We were left with a quiet house and a reminder that friends met in unique ways always offer unique reminders of the novelty of life, the quirkiness of the world. Much in the same way that babies do, friends from afar remind me that the world is a fun – so very, very fun – place.

Half a year. Half of the first year. Half of the first year in which everything changes so quickly, days blend together into months, a teeny tiny little man develops a smile, a laugh, a personality right before our very eyes.

An aquarium trip where the penguins were more interesting than mom.

Boat rides to Harbor Islands…

Apples!

Sunday drives to the farm…

Boxes are fun.

And Canada is exhausting, eh?

Brewery tours will be more fun in twenty and a half years.

But Burlington, VT, is pretty great already.

New York City is sometimes best seen from a high up window with the boys.

About a week and a half behind in my recap, but better late than never.

So we maintained our Sunday Drivers tradition two weekends ago with an adventure to New York City…Chris and the kid picked me up from work on Friday afternoon, and away we went. Just over two hours in, we stopped for dinner at…Taco Bell. Really. Gross. But stop we did, as what better time than the present to satisfy the desire to try a Doritos Locos taco. It was gross. So, so gross. But it has been on the must-try list for a while, so must-try we did. Suffice to say, it did not make the must-try-again list. Blech.

Onward.

We made it to NYC in pretty good time, parked the car (street parking?! Impressive.), met up with our friends, and headed to dinner. At this point it was pretty late, and poor little man was a trooper. Or at least a trooper until he threw up all over Chris and the booth. And we’re not talking spit up here. It was full-blown, he entire meal (only milk at least!), all over Christopher, my scarf, and the booth. Poor little man. Must have been the tacos.

Saturday morning we were up fairly bright and early, so we headed out for a walk around the city. We wandered and wandered, from Manhattan to Brooklyn, through the streets of Brooklyn, on a ferry to midtown Manhattan, back down block by block to Lower Manhattan. I’m not sure how many miles we covered, but our feet let us know that it was many.

Pudge Knuckles was a trooper throughout.

So was the Milk Truck.

After our long explore, we decided to further explore and headed to Rockaway Beach for the night. We arrived after dark, and come morning were thrilled to be greeted by the sunshine and the sound of waves crashing. Chris and I took a morning stroll along the beach, grabbed coffee, and enjoyed breakfast on the patio before our friends awoke to join us. Before hitting the road home, we took another walk along the beach, watched some surfers, and soaked in a most beautiful late summer/early fall day.

All in all, a great weekend of exploration and adventure, tiny little man in tow.